Let Me See Jesus.

God is multilingual.

This morning during bible class we had one of the largest discussions we have ever had as a classroom. When I say large, I mean large in relation to how far I can usually get through to my barely English-speaking students. Each morning we have worship and prayer, this morning was not out of the ordinary, except for the fact that one of my kids raised his hand beaming with curiosity. I was rather shocked at this sight alone. I typically feel like they could not care less and that they comprehend a whole 3% of what I actually say to them.

I called on my student. “Tee-Cha, what if I pray in Khmer? God no understand?” he asked. I looked around my classroom and all of the other students seemed just as interested in their classmate’s inquiry.  Still shocked I responded to him, “God knows ALL languages,” I said. “He always understands.” The kids eyes grew larger than I’ve ever seen them. They were just as shocked as I had been a couple minutes previous. “WHAT?! What about in Thailand, Tee-Cha, or Chineeeee, or Frennn, or Japaneee?!” they all shouted out. “Yes, He understands Thai, Chinese, French, and Japanese.” They were amazed. It was adorable.

Another student wanted to jump in on the conversation. “Well, what if I pray when my friend prays? Then God has to choose one of us to listen to?” he asked. I sometimes forget how little these kids know about God’s traits that seem so obvious to me. I have to remember that they were introduced to God only a couple of weeks before I even landed in Cambodia. “God is SO powerful, I know that understanding everything about Him is complicated, but He can listen to everyone at the same time!” I always swing my arms around and try to use charades and facial expressions to help my students understand ME a little better…but explaining God to them? It’s like explaining what the sun feels like to someone who has lost his or her sense of touch. You feel the sun. Trying to translate a feeling from English to Khmer is difficult even with every charade and action I can muster up. It really is borderline frustrating. I want them to understand. I am sure they can relate to my frustration, they want to understand too.

All of the sudden the questions began POURING in. “What if God is sleeping when I pray? He needs sleep too. Are all people in America Christians? Will Jesus give me a house if I ask for one? Will Jesus help me find my spelling book? What does Jesus think about the fact that I went to the pagoda on Sunday with my mother? Tee-Cha, have you seen Jesus before? Does He talk to you?"

Then my personal favorite came. One of my typically rambunctious, troublemaking, little boys raised his hand.  "Tee-Cha, can you let me see Jesus?” Usually this little boy makes me want to rip my hair out, but today he melted my heart.

WHERE HAVE THESE QUESTIONS BEEN FOR THE PAST FIVE AND A HALF MONTHS?!

I answered all of my students’ questions to the best of my own ability for almost the entire class period. They listened for a long time, but as to be expected they began to get off topic at the end. Before I dismissed them I wanted to be sure that I had done all that I could to help them understand. I quieted them down enough to ask if they had any more questions about Jesus. My best English speaker turned to me and chimed in, “Of course Cha, I have lots, but I don’t know how to say them in English.” Ugh.

Even though I so desperately want to be the one to answer their questions, I have to remember there’s only so much that I, myself, can give to them. Although the language barrier got in the way again this morning, for once I was able to feel satisfied with how much got through to them. For the first time in a long time I felt like my kids wanted to learn, and THAT? That was more than enough for today.

 I do have ever so much hope for these children.

-Amber

Some Blood. Mostly Sweat and Tears.

Sometimes all you need is someone to truthfully look you right in the eyes, straight down to your soul, and say that they believe in you.

We are currently learning the books of the Bible in class. Each week I have assigned the students ten new books to memorize along with their weekly memory verse. In order to mildly shake up our somewhat monotonous routine, this week I wrote the new ten books onto the whiteboard in cursive. Every so often I have brought out handwriting worksheets to let the kids practice and they usually want to kill me for doing so; they think writing anything in English is already hard enough. However, I typically choose to counteract their complaints by explaining to them that learning new things may be challenging, but inevitably good for them.

One of my 4^th grade boys was almost in tears today as he looked up at my cursive handwriting on the whiteboard. “Cha, it is easy for you and very difficult for me!” he yelled out in desperation, hoping that I would change my mind over this assignment. The poor boy looked so hopelessly hopeless. I could not help but chuckle inside over his seemingly unnecessary tears, not to be condescending, but only because I know that he has some of the most beautiful handwriting in the class.

I knew he would continue to complain if I just ignored his appeals. So, I then got down to his level, kneeling down in front of his desk. I looked right into his teary, brown eyes and said, “You can do this, I know you can.” He quickly pleaded, “No Cha, I cannot at all!” I made a face of disbelief at him, and I think he understood that I was not going to change the assignment for him. I asked again, still kneeling down in front of him, to please try. I stayed there for a few minutes at his desk until he finally put his pencil to the paper and slowly wrote out….E….s….t…h….e….r. In between each letter he would look up at me; I am still really not sure as to why he did this other than to feel my support. He finished the last loop on the “r” and I gave him the biggest smile I could and said one word: perfect. He all of a sudden lit up with confidence; his previous tears now made his eyes sparkle.  “See, I knew you could do it,” I said.

I walked away from Serey Reach’s desk and watched him from mine as he quickly finished his assignment close to perfection. This was such a simple moment, and yet it burned so deep into my heart. I could not help but see myself in my student. So many times throughout the past five months I have found myself in tears, screaming and pleading for an easier assignment. I picture God up there, chuckling inside over MY seemingly unnecessary tears, not to be condescending, but because He knows I can do it. Just like my student, I am constantly in search and search and search for affirmation from every direction…and maybe that is selfish of me…but maybe it is also just human.

It is hard being here, I struggle…but today someone truthfully looked right into MY teary, brown eyes, straight into my soul, and said that they believed in me…and I felt like that was enough to let me know that God is not leaving me out to dry here in stifling Cambodia. He’s working away; He’s working through Alex’s and my own literal blood, sweat, and tears and in the end I’m thankful for my assignment because after all, learning and experiencing new things may be challenging but it is inevitably good for me.

For those of you who actually read this, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for your prayers and support because those things are what keep us going.

Much love from Cambodia.

-Amber

Survival 2.0

A couples months ago, when I was asked if I wanted to go on senior survival with this year's senior class, I just wanted to say no. “I’m surviving already,” I thought to myself, at the time, “I don’t need to add bucket showers, dirt and the outdoors to it.” Though despite my hesitation, I said yes. This week, instead of putting on my teacher clothes, I packed up the backpack and headed out into the woods with 15 CAS seniors, Amber, and two other teachers. I don’t teach the 12^th graders any classes, so the stress of learning their names alone was increasing my heart rate.

            We loaded on up and headed out to Jombok Hoas (pronounced in English Jimbok Hall) at an early 7 am on a Monday morning that was, for the rest of the school, a holiday. The week previous I had been fighting a monster of a cold, that had only got worse over the weekend, and the last place I wanted to be was sitting in a bus full of loud high school seniors yelling, laughing, screaming, and singing for four+ hours.

            Upon our arrival, I was pleasantly surprised to see that this senior “survival” was much less survival like than my own senior survival. We had a cabin to sleep in and staff cooking the food for us.

            The next morning started off the games and activities. We did a variety of activities including walking down a hill all while balancing on a wire, zip lining, and did other team building games. The last activity of that day was the giant swing. Having been on the giant swing at MiVoden multiple times, I decided I was done putting my trust in equipment that looked at little too sketchy and I was going to sit this one out.

That day the kids had been learning about different principles that they needed to use while doing their activities, as well principles they could apply to every day life. These principles included “Look and listen carefully,” “I can do it,” and four others. As the last student got on the giant swing, Amber and I started getting harnesses thrown towards us and a lot of “Teacher, you’re next!” We told them that we had done this in America and one of the kids looked at us and said, “Teacher. Don’t sit, get involved.” That was another principle. With those four words, we let our students hall us to the very top of the swing (twice as I as MiVoden’s giant swing), and watch us fly through the air.

The third day brought it’s own set of adventures and challenges. I had heard that the third day involved “big things,” but had no idea what “big things” actually meant. After two short games, we were lead through the woods to a tree that towered high above the rest. From there we were supposed to climb up a sketchy ladder and then repel down the side of the tree. Having to climb up or down a ladder is one of my greatest fears. Silly, I know. I was one of the last to go, and I slowly made my way up the ladder with Amber right on my heels. I was a little more than a little scared. Eventually it was my turn, and I started to lower myself down. The gloves I was wearing were too big, and I couldn’t get my hand in a good position to hold the rope tight enough to stop myself. Though I wasn’t moving fast, I wasn’t stopping, and instead of pushing off the tree, I was going straight down. The fact that I couldn’t grip the rope well enough to stop freaked me out. I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my entire life. The Leap of Faith was next (this also twice as high as the one at MiVoden). After just being thoroughly scared to death, I decided I was done with high trees that involved ladders and high platforms. Yet, once again, my students convinced me to go.

That night, the last night, we had some good ole’ classic fun scaring the boys in the forest and attempting an all nighter that lasted only to the first few hours of the morning. Of all the weeks I have had in Cambodia, I have to say this week was one of my favorites. Fifteen high school seniors can really teach you a thing or two. Without them pushing me, I would never have repelled down that tree or jumped for the handle that high in the leap of faith. Not knowing the students made the experience, for me, even greater. I had no idea what to expect from them. I thought learning their names in four days wasn’t even going to happen, but I learned so much more. The kids constantly had me laughing and kept me laughing the entire time we were there. They were supportive of each other and of us teachers. Watching them push themselves made me want to push myself as well.

Being on senior survival, I couldn’t help but think of my own class and my senior survival. It feels like so long ago, yet seeing my students do some of the exact same activities we did makes me feel like it was yesterday. It’s shocking how much life can change in 2 ½ years.

I never thought that getting out into the woods with a group of students I didn’t know would help remind me why I’m in Cambodia. It did, however, do just that. The moments I didn’t want to do something I had to keep reminding myself that I was, I am, here for the students. Though I am here for the students, I can’t even begin to explain the impact they are having on me, which could quite possibly be even greater than the impact I am having on them.

-Alex

Love Whacked.

Today I was able to leave school feeling less like a train wreck and more accomplished than usual.

Originally all of the punching, slapping, pinching, and hitting that goes on between the students in Cambodia caught me off guard. I used to be hasty to attempt to save the day, jumping in between my students to be their hero, or in this case, their heroine. However, the students have always been just as quick to tell me to calm down and relax. “Cha, we do this because we love” they have repeated over and over to me. 

Okay, that makes a whole heck of a lot of sense kids….

As convincing as their cute little faces are…I still find myself somewhat appalled every time I witness my precious kids turn psycho and full out WWE style smack one another. Because I just still have not accustomed myself to their loving violence, in our classroom we have a “no hitting” policy.

The students are still getting used to showing their “affection” in other ways, and they still try to make sure to get their energy out at recess and not in our classroom.  Nonetheless, from time to time they do forget and today I had the most personal of encounters with this “love displaying” gesture.

Little Vanneth

Today is special. Today marks the day I received my first love punch. Vanneth, my youngest student averaging around 3 feet and 50 pounds, came FLYING down the hall directly for me with the most gigantic smile you can imagine. He was sprinting full pace with his arms outstretched beside him screaming at the top of his lungs “CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AMBERRRRR!!!.” Before I knew any different my left forearm was throbbing with pain. Only after the initial shock wore off did I realize what had just occurred.

Vanneth full out WWE style whacked me and the weird thing about it was that I somehow knew right away that it came out of love. He did not even stop to say sorry or even to see if my arm was okay...and  to be honest I was totally okay with it! I quickly found Alex and with excitement stated, “I think I get it now!!” She just shook her head.

 I so wish that I could even somewhat accurately get across how much joy my students bring me. They lessen my longing for home and make this whole experience so much more worth it. Today my arm may be sore, but truthfully I could not feel more honored.

-Amber

Weakness.

I am so weak.

It really is terrible..but also the truth;  how effortless the process of forgetting what surrounds me while I comfortably sit in my apartment here in Phnom Penh. Still, as soon as I step outside, outside of what is comfortable, I am quickly and bluntly reminded of where I am and where I will be for the next few months of my life. Usually this realization comes first in the form of the most incredible heat wave I have ever experienced, only then to escalate. Every morning I jump onto my bike with tires half flat, weaving in-between hundreds of motos, other bike riders, and humongous-honking-semi-trucks on my way to school. This morning routine would not be half as eye opening if poverty did not slap me in the face with each mile that I ride. 

The distribution of wealth is so deranged here. Ignoring the extravagant mansions and the unnecessarily expensive cars that fly past me really is difficult, but it is even more impossible to ignore the wooden shacks with dirt floors placed right in between them. Tiny, naked, dirt covered children run in an out from their homes to greet us each day. “Hello!” “Good morning!” they scream out to Alex and I, no matter the time of day. As precious and heart warming as it is to see their gorgeous smiles through their mud painted skin, to see something beautiful in the very midst of poverty at its finest, I become more frustrated and discouraged than not.

I cannot help but find myself asking the same questions every single time I choose to turn off the distractions and soak in reality.  “Why” is at the top of my list. Why is any of this fair? These kids deserve a chance, what have they done to deserve this? How does a God of love allow suffering to this extent go on? Even as I sit down and write this on paper I already feel my blood beginning to boil.

Seeing children dig through trash in order to survive? I so easily become nauseas here. This is definitely not what I want to see first thing in the morning, or ever. Period. I promise myself I will never let my heart harden enough for these sights to not phase me as they do right now. 

I came to Cambodia to serve God, and as backward as it sounds, it seems that becoming angry with Him is so much easier for me to do here in Phnom Penh than ever.  Still, God is using this experience to change me. Before going to bed last night I came across a few paragraphs that I suppose I needed to come across….

“It’s hard. It’s complicated to reconcile a God who works through pain. It’s tough to trust in a Lord who allows suffering and inconvenience. It’d be a whole lot easier to mindlessly promise myself that Jesus always wants to make life easy, but I don’t think that’s how He works.

If anything, Jesus uses dark colors when He paints. He’s into streams in the desert and life out of death. Just take one good look at the cross and that ought to convince you that the God the Bibles speaks of is a God who uses horror and injustice to His advantage.

The cross is evidence to our minds, and balm for our souls that our God is a God who brings beauty out of pain. Art out of chaos. Beauty out of ugliness. Or as some of the poets have said, He conquers death by death itself. Our Redeemer beat Death at his own game.

Hope rises.

When we trust Christ, and the mysterious work on Calvary, we trust that He’s always up to something good even in the darkest days. In fact, that’s probably when He’s up to the most good, because that’s when the most good grows in me.

So hey, I’m delayed, I’m uncomfortable, but if this is the path the Lord has brought me down, then I say, “Don’t stop it Lord.” Redemption was born on a far darker day than this one, so bring the chaos. Bring the madness. Do whatever you’ve got to do to recreate my heart. After all, it’s me that needs to change, not my circumstances.” –donehey

First, I thought to myself how this was one of the most beautiful things I have ever read, then I read it again, and again, and again. The entire passage hit home, but especially the last few sentences. Amber what are you thinking….heck, if the dirt covered, naked, children I pass each morning have enough joy in their precious little hearts to pour out to me, I sure enough am able to share with them and more each day. 

Maybe after all it is not my duty to become angry with God for the suffering in this world. Perhaps my surroundings or situations are not what need to be changed, rather myself and my perspective of everything around me. I have come to the conclusion that my frustration is clearly my weakness. Not only a weakness but also a useless emotion unless I make the choice to turn it into something productive. What better time to be productive than now, considering I am here to serve, not to throw tantrums in my own mind. 

Yes, I still believe that poverty, in any country, is disgusting and unfair. But the little children who can smile through all of their pain? They give me oh so much hope. They are the ones inspiring me to keep going. So tonight I am thankful for the chaos, the madness, and the dark sides, because these things change people. These things are God’s canvas. 

-Amber

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. -2 Corinthians 12:9